So Was Barry
by DarkElements10
Summary: [Sequel to Henry Allen Was Here]. Barry's realizes just how slowly time moved while in prison. Now he understood how his father felt.


**Barry Was, Too**

 **By: Riley**

 **Summary – [Sequel to Henry Allen Was Here]. Barry's realizes just how slowly time moved while in prison. Now he understood how his father felt.**

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Sweep, sweep, slide.

Sweep, sweep, slide.

Barry let out a heavy sigh, tightening his grasp on the handle of the mop in his hands. He looked over the path he'd just taken, eyeing it with contempt as guards walked through, pressing footprints into the water he'd just spread over the ground. He was sure they were doing it on purpose. How many times had they snickered as him when they walked by, purposefully leaving dirty footprints as they went?

How many fellow prisoners purposefully flung food to the ground just so he could clean it up? And every time, Barry took it without complaint to take up time. Continued to pass the mop back and forth over the tiles of the hallway, the lunch room, the common area, anything he was told to mop. He made a name for himself.

The Fastest Mop Alive.

How fitting.

The one thing he did to take up time, to try to make time move faster, _willing_ time to move faster was what gave him a new nickname. It was better than the Scarlett Speedster, he supposed. But the irony wasn't lost on him. He hated doing chores in his normal life, racing through it as fast as possible so he could curl up on the couch and catch up on Netflix. Now, he purposefully moved as slow as possible and it was fast to those around him.

Enough so he was given the mop every time there was a spill, even made to be the lead of the janitorial team. That was alright with him. It kept him moving. And he needed nothing more than to move. Sitting still was torture. Waiting was torture.

But it was needed.

Barry consistently wondered what his father did to pass the time. Other than reading. Henry always loved to read. When he wasn't watching a football game or going over files of his patients, Barry found his father reading in the armchair in the middle of the living room, glasses perched on the end of his nose. Many times, as his father told him later, he would be reading when Barry arrived, often telling his son where he left off in the book he was currently reading.

Giving suggestions of what he thought Barry would enjoy.

"How can you sit there and read?" Barry asked, unsure of what else his father would do.

Henry just smiled and shrugged. "I need to do something to pass the time."

A small smile came to Barry's face as he continued to push the mop back and forth. He had run back in time, traveled to the future, stopped time when he ran fast enough. And now he wanted to pass the time. Time was a constant with him. Just as it was to his father.

"Allen, you're done!" A guard called to him. "Time to get back into your cell!"

Barry nodded and pushed the mop and bucket back into the custodial closet. Once he closed the door, he walked over to the guard, who grabbed the crook of his elbow and led him to his cell. _Not like I don't know where it is,_ Barry thought. He walked into his cell and sat down on the bed. He could fell the springs press into his but as it always did, the mattress was so thin.

To add insult to injury, it probably hadn't been changed since his father was released. Barry pressed his elbows to his knees, his chin in his hands, knees bouncing up and down rapidly. He couldn't sit still. It was the only use of his powers he was able to show.

Barry looked up as the door to his prison clanged shut. The same way it did every day. With a slow, mechanical sound; nuts and bolts locking into place. Then the dull 'thunk' of the metal clacking into the door frame. No way in or out. And as it did, Barry closed his eyes the moment the sound emitted.

Allowing it to resonate in his brain. He'd heard it how many times now? He mentally thought back to it. Mentally ran through his mind like a slot machine to slide in the right number of times. Right. Of course. Seven.

Lucky number seven.

Barry reached out his hand and, using his super speed, scratched a number into the wall. Seven. Lucky number seven for Barry Allen. It was funny, how long seven days felt. Let alone how long those days felt with his powers. An eternity. He could only imagine how his father felt, watching the days pass by.

Knowing he was waiting for the day to be proven innocent and released.

And Barry knew it would be the same.

He was innocent and soon it'd be proven and released.

He just had to wait.

Barry's eyes shifted over the numbers again. Seven days. Just underneath where it was written, _Henry Allen Was Here_ and he completed it with, _Barry Was, Too._

Reaching under his pillow, Barry pulled out a hardback book and flipped open the pages. He started to read.

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 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you guys enjoyed this one as well. It had more to do with his own thoughts rather than connecting it to his dad, but I hope the connection was still a good one.

 **Cheers,**

 **-Riley**


End file.
